By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
“Why is camping fun?”
I’ve been asked that many times through the years. Even active, tough, and healthy people, folks who glory in the feel of a strenuous workout, often wonder about it. Hard physical activity is a joy when it’s followed by a hot shower, a good meal (preferably cooked and delivered by someone else), and a clean, soft, safe bed. But where’s the fun in ending a hard day’s workout by erecting a tent, attempting to cook dinner, bathing (if at all) in unheated water, and attempting to sleep on rocky ground? (Let’s not even talk about stinging and biting insects, itching poison oak and ivy, and the smallish-but-real risk of being attacked by a wild animal—or person.)
Why is camping fun?
It’s hardly a rhetorical question when you’re standing drenched to the skin, watching raindrops bore holes into the curry you’re desperately trying to heat over a flickering camping stove. Your muscles ache, but you can’t sit because the picnic table and ground are sodden. Darkness is all around you, lit only by the stove and the weak ripple of LEDs from the camp lamp through the rain. Behind you, the tent is battered by rain: Rivulets are pooling on the top and running down the sides, and you’re pretty sure the inside is damp as well. And the plummeting raindrops are cooling the curry as fast as you’re trying to heat it.
Vladimir Brezina (RIP) 
Johna Till Johnson
Wind Against Current 